


On Our Way Back Home

by thegrimshapeofyoursmile



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Fingering, NSFW, PWP, Public Sex, Tumblr Prompt, ciristle, cirixmistle, thigh fucking, well sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 15:15:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4440767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrimshapeofyoursmile/pseuds/thegrimshapeofyoursmile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the tumblr prompt: "(...) Mistle and Ciri are sitting with Geralt in some dusty, dark inn, and everything seems fine and dandy, except... Mistle is horny. And Ciri's body radiates warm... The problem? Ciri's Papa mustn't notice what's going on."</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Our Way Back Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fill of a prompt on my side-blog queerwitcher.tumblr.com: "(...)Mistle and Ciri are sitting with Geralt in some dusty, dark inn, and everything seems fine and dandy, except... Mistle is horny. And Ciri's body radiates warm... The problem? Ciri's Papa mustn't notice what's going on."
> 
> Had a lot of fun writing this, I hope Anon likes it and maybe others too n__n

“Shhh,” Mistle murmured, her hand warm and comforting over Ciri’s mouth, warm and comforting just like the rest of her body pressed tightly against Ciri’s from behind. She was in a mood, Ciri could tell, it was not hard to do so; her breathing rhythm always changed and became slower, deeper. By now, Ciri knew it so well that her body automatically responded with warmth forming in her belly. There could have been no time and place where such a thing would have been more inappropriate than here on this dusty bench in an even dustier inn while they waited for Geralt to come back with food and something to drink. 

“Not now,” Ciri hissed, but Mistle was having none of it. It was hard to get through to her in a normal situation – when she was horny, it was almost impossible. Ciri still slapped her hand away when it creeped up her thigh. “If Geralt notices what’s going on, I’ll kill you, I swear to the Gods!”

“Then he won’t notice,” Mistle assured her and Ciri barely had time to squeak before she was pulled onto Mistle’s lap. Her back was pressed against Mistle’s chest, her boobs a soft pillow against Ciri’s shoulder blades. There was the hand again, slowly creeping up Ciri’s leg; she did not have the heart to push it away again. She could feel Mistle’s lips, chapped and cool, wandering up her neck until they rested on the spot right before her ear. “The table is in front of us. He won’t notice if you manage to be quiet.”

“Mistle, I swear-“ Ciri began, but snapped shut when she saw Geralt approaching the table, carefully balancing three mugs of beer in his hands. She could not help but smile at that; somehow, it was such a typical thing for Geralt to do. On the other hand, it was quite difficult to concentrate on what was or was not typical for Geralt when Mistle positioned her so that her thigh was pressing directly against the spot between Ciri’s legs. While Geralt placed the mugs on the table and sat down heavily on the bench at the other side of it, she took a deep breath to stabilize herself. The hand crept underneath her skirt; she could feel Mistle’s innocent smile against her cheek and wanted to slap her. At the same time, it was the most exciting thing she could ever imagine. 

“I brought some bread and cheese, they had nothing else,” Geralt offered awkwardly and pushed over a plate with a surprisingly fresh loaf and deliciously smelling cheese. “I thought you two might be hungry…”

“We’re very hungry,” Mistle assured him with that subtle undertone in her voice only Ciri could interpret. At this moment, Ciri was quite tempted to bite her lover, especially when she shifted her thigh a little, causing some more friction against her clit. Pleasure shot through Ciri’s body and she bit her lip before she forced a smile and nodded in agreement, which became even harder when Mistle’s fingertips finally slipped underneath her panties. Warm fingers stroked her skin and caused her to shiver. When Geralt looked at her in honest concern, she forced another smile and reached for the bread, almost tearing it in half when one of Mistle’s fingers slipped inside her. “Are you okay, Ciri?” Mistle asked innocently; Ciri turned her head to glare at her, digging the fingernails of one hand into Mistle’s thigh. 

“I am very okay,” she snapped, causing Geralt’s brows to shoot up. However, he did not ask, choosing instead to take a big swig from his mug before he handed a knife over to Ciri. With a quiet thanks and burning cheeks, Ciri attempted to slice off a piece of bread from the loaf, trying to ignore the wetness between her legs that was explored by two of Mistle’s clever fingers. After the long time they had spent together, Mistle knew exactly which buttons to press, where to stroke and push. It was harder than anything else for Ciri not to gasp when Mistle curved her fingers a little while innocently talking with Geralt about the weather and the route they still had to travel along. Focusing on the piece of bread in front of her, Ciri took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to quell the excited tremble in her legs, which became increasingly difficult. Mistle’s thigh was strong as a rock against her ass; without realizing it, Ciri leaned back against her lover a little more, taking a strong bite out of the cheese to stifle a moan. Mistle had always called it a gift of the gods that Ciri was able to come from vaginal penetration alone; now, however, Ciri felt as if it was a punishment for everything she had done wrong. The urge to punch Mistle was still strong, but even stronger was the wish to come. Ciri dug the fingernails of her free hand deeper into Mistle’s thigh in sheer frustration, which did not slow down her lover in the least. 

“Are you really okay, Ciri?” Geralt asked again, concern digging deep frowns into his forehead. Ciri was about to respond vocally before she reconsidered and only quickly nodded her head as she felt the pleasure building up more and more inside her. There was nothing she wanted more than urge Mistle on to go faster, harder, deeper, but she was not able to say a single word, not even daring to shift her body a little so as to avoid letting Geralt know what was going on. The bread crumbled beneath her fingers, but she barely noticed, too focused on what was going on inside her body, fingers pushing and pressing against her wet insides and sending sparks of pleasure through her, building the pressure higher and higher until she could feel it snap. Ciri hid a gasp by biting into what was left of the piece of bread, closing her eyes briefly as the climax washed over her with intense tingling sensations. Only barely did she notice as Mistle carefully withdrew her fingers and wiped Ciri’s wetness off on her skirt, patting Ciri’s thigh with obvious satisfaction. Trying to catch her breath, Ciri looked up and found Geralt staring at her with an odd look and furrowed brows. Mistle’s smile was evident against her neck. 

“I think I might be sick,” Ciri said and lowered her gaze in embarrassment as Mistle only laughed, wild and free and happy.


End file.
